Lorien's Forgotten
by Astrid Troye
Summary: Everyone thinks of the lost Loric on Earth, but none consider, what if a Loric survived the Mogs attack? What if she is still alive? I'm Araela. This is my story.


Lorien Legacies Fan Fic

Everyone thinks of the lost Loric on Earth, but none consider, what if a Loric survived the Mogs attack? What if she is still alive? I'm Araela. This is my story.

I shudder as the shadow grows near.

_Magodorians?_ Whispers Nyx, using telepathy.

_I don't know. _I answer back.

Nyx hugged my finger. She must be cold, I realized, and glance down at my pocket. It really is a miracle Nyx is alive at all. She is only three inches tall and weighs barely a pound, but without her, I probably wouldn't be here today. Loneliness can be as difficult as hunger to overcome.

As Nyx cuddles close to my left fingers in my pocket, I duck my head down and dash across the clearing torwards a pile of assorted bricks and rubble. I duck down and gaze out over the ruins.

Nyx sighs, and I know exactly what she is thinking. What happened to Lorien? It used to be the most gorgeous place.

Crystal skyscrapers built of Loralite, and luscious green hills with Chimaera grazing peacefully. The sea was not just one simple blue, but many glowing shades, and in some places, green. The Lorien I know today is a nightmare.

I start running again and don't stop until I reach a wall. The brick is crumbling, and the steel frame beneath is showing through. A ripped red cloak hangs precariously over an opening in the wall. Once inside, I fall into an large brown chair I

found in an abandoned basement. Ironically, it is in almost spotless condition- although the home around it was decimated.

Nyx crawls out of my pocket and stands on my knee. She is wearing a simple black dress she made herself. Her ginger hair is pulled into an tiny braid. Nyx's features are all very delicate, except for her eyes. When she's upset she gets this fierce look in them, like a tiger hunting it's prey. She has that look now.

'What was a Magodorian doing in the ruins of Troye?! There hasn't been any here for years!'

'I don't know, Nyx. I can't ever hope to understand the antics of those aliens. They are strange. What I do know is it's bad for us, them being here. Very bad.'

Nyx's shoulders relaxed and her eyes returned to a semi normal state.

'We should move to Avon-Village.'

Avon-Village was one of our many homes. Troye is the remains we are staying in now. We have four hideouts now, spread out across Lorien. Even though the Magodorians destoyed life on the planet and have made it inhospitable for almost anyone, a few lone junkers return every once in a while. Their government permits it, allowing they report on the status of the planet. If one of them were to see us... We would be dead within a day. Therefore, we move between our homes every few weeks.

'I'll pack right away,' I agreed.

I walked torwards the back of the room and ducked beneath another faded curtain and into another smaller room. More like a den, actually, considering it's mostly underground. If not for the wooden planks above the two rooms, we would be buried. My bedroom is simple. A small pallet of scrap pillows and blankets are in one corner. A makeshift shelf with three books against one wall. And a dirty chest with my clothing and a few precious belongings.

I remove the important things from the chest and put them in my backpack. My extra outfit, a wrapped blanket, and my bracelet. Everything else will stay behind. I return into the main room to find Nyx struggling to push a loaf of bread into a satchel. I use my telekinesis to shove it in the bag.

'Thanks, Araela.'

'No problem.'

I scooped up Nyx and carefully placed her in my pocket, which is probably the weirdest looking pocker ever. Instead of being thin, it is wide and juts out two inches from my hoodie. She can sit comfortably and still watch where we are going.

I grab the food satchel and put it over my shoulder. We have a long way to go, and we had better get started.

'Araela?'

'Yes?'

'Do you think they are looking for me?'

I looked down and considered this. Nyx was the result of a genetic experiment. Loric scientist had tried to find a way to create Chimaera that could transform into human form. It worked, but she was much smaller than planned. Nyx can still

change into other animals, but remains tiny regardless of the appearance. She was already an abnormally smart Chimaera, but after the experimements, she's as intelligent as any Loric, if not more.

'No. Loric has been dead for over ten years. If they were looking for you, they would have come by now. You are going to be fine.'

Nyx sighed.

'I would protect you if they came. You know that, don't you?'

Silence.

'Nyx?'

I looked down to see a sleeping Chimaera curled up in my hoodie pocket. A smile spread across my face.

It had just been me and her for three years now. There used to be four of us. My cousin, Orion, was with us once. He died at sunrise from a sickness none of us knew how to heal. It was just a year after the war had ended. The Loric doctors could have fixed it, but they were gone. Just the four of us. Peter was there, too, once. Peter was a friend of the family. My brothers' best friend. Practically a third brother. The days when there was four of us seems more made up than real. I was only six when the war between Lorien and Magodor ended. If not for Peter and Orion, I wouldn't have made it to my seventh year.

I continued walking, but quickened my pace. It takes a days walk to reach Avon-Village, and we will have to stop for the night somewhere before there. The more distance between us and Troye, the better. I stare up at what is left of the skyscrapers, which used to be so beautiful. Not many still stand tall, and those that do are damaged and sagging.

As I take another step forward, I hear a soft crunch. A shudder rips through my body, and I twirl around. I dont't see any Mog junkers, so I look down.

And there, in the middle of a bleeding cityscape, struggling though busted concrete, is a flower. Not a radiant rose, but a

dusty purple heather. My fingers touch its damaged stem.

_It's dying._

It's not the only one. I stand vigil for a moment, then hurry away.


End file.
